


Broken Pieces

by isthisenoughorcanwegohigher



Series: Damaged [2]
Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: Blood and Injury, Hospitalization, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, please please be careful if this might trigger you, there's......nothing else i have to say about this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-13 02:35:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16884027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isthisenoughorcanwegohigher/pseuds/isthisenoughorcanwegohigher
Summary: Newt's been taken to the hospital after a suicide attempt. Now the only question remaining is whether or not he'll survive.





	Broken Pieces

**Author's Note:**

> _I’m tryna find a way back home_   
>  _If it takes until I’m skin and bones_   
>  _I’ll find a way to fix these broken pieces_

“If you don’t stop pacing, you’re gonna wear a hole in the floor.” Minho’s voice was muffled by his hands.

Thomas ceased his pacing long enough to glare at his friend before moving again, his shoes squeaking every so often on the linoleum floor.

“Thomas, seriously.” Minho snapped his head up and stared at the boy pacing the waiting room in front of him imploringly.

Thomas whirled around and snapped, “Well, I’m sorry that I’m scared shitless, Minho, but my boyfriend is in the hospital because he tried to kill himself and no one has been able to tell me that he’ll survive this! I’ll pace all I damn want, if that’s what helps!”

Minho held up his hands, trying to placate Thomas. “I know,” he said. “Just….”

Thomas raised an eyebrow, but Minho could see the slight tremble to his shoulders. Thomas was maybe seconds away from losing it.

“Never mind,” Minho said quietly. He lowered his gaze from the frantic boy in front of him and turned it to his phone.

_Fry, you need to get here, man. I don’t know if I can calm Thomas down myself if something happens._

_Yeah. I’m almost there, man._

Minho glanced back up from his messages to see Thomas clenching his fists as he resumed pacing.

The doctor walked into the waiting room at the same time as Frypan. 

Thomas ceased pacing and froze, rooted to the floor, staring at the doctor. He didn’t even register Fry being there until the older boy’s hand settled on his shoulder. Thomas couldn’t even flinch away from the contact, though his body screamed to just be left alone. The only person he wanted to touch right now wasn’t here. He might not even still be alive.

Perhaps the doctor could sense the tension in the room, although it wasn’t hard to miss, because she’d hardly glanced up before her sympathetic gaze settled on Thomas and she spoke.

“You’re here for Newt?”

“Yes.”

She smiled slightly then. “Well, the good news is, he’s out of surgery. They’re moving him to recovery now.”

Minho exhaled sharply, and Frypan even risked a smile. But Thomas asked sharply, “What’s the bad news?”

The doctor nodded, her smile fading as she took in Thomas’s expression. “The bad news is, Newt lost a lot of blood before you got him here. To make sure he stabilized after surgery, he’s been put in a medically induced coma. We aren’t sure how long it will take him to stabilize enough to pull him out of the coma.”

The fight that crashed like waves in Thomas seeped away, leaving him sagging. Frypan nearly didn’t catch him as his legs started to give out.

“But he’s okay?” Thomas asked weakly.

“He should be okay, yes.”

Thomas seemed to lose the ability to speak, so Minho asked the question for him. “Can we see him?”

“Of course,” the doctor nodded. “Follow me, please.”

She led them out of the waiting room and down the hall to room 250.

Frypan went straight in and settled in the chair by the door, his eyes on Newt’s unusually pale figure, expression unreadable.

Minho lingered in the doorway with Thomas, who struggled to breathe for a moment as he took in the sight of his boyfriend, lying prone beneath a thin hospital bed sheet.

“He’s okay now, Thomas,” Minho murmured in the boy’s ear, gently wrapping his hand around Thomas’s elbow. He led Thomas to the chair closest to the bed and allowed him to sink into it before he let go, taking his own seat and dragging it a little closer.

Thomas stared a moment longer at Newt before he grabbed Newt’s hand, threading their fingers together.

Newt’s skin was clammy, and it clashed with all the memories Thomas had of his time knowing the boy in front of him.

Hot tears blurred his vision, and when Thomas blinked, they fell, dripping down his face and splashing onto the sheets, darkening the off white material.

“Newt,” Thomas whispered, his voice thick. “Oh, Newt.”

He said his boyfriend’s name like a prayer, like maybe if he said it enough, with the right intonation, he could turn back the clock and stop this, prevent this, keep Newt from ever going down this path.

“Thomas–” Minho started, but his voice failed him as he watched his friend break down. He glanced over at Frypan, who appeared as distressed at the situation as he felt.

“I’m gonna fix him,” Thomas mumbled after a while, wiping at his eyes with his free hand. “I’m not gonna let this happen again.” He looked up to Minho and Frypan for reassurance.

Both boys nodded.

“We’re here to help, however you two need us to,” Frypan promised.

Thomas sniffled. “Thanks.”

Frypan shot him a small smile.

“D’you… what do we do now?” Thomas asked. “I don’t actually know how to make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

“We’ll figure it out as we go,” Minho said.

Frypan hummed in agreement. “One day at a time, Thomas. One day at a time.”

Thomas opened his mouth to reply when the heart monitor on the wall started beeping rapidly. He tightened his grip on Newt’s hand and glanced up at it, his eyes wild with panic.

“What is that?” He asked, voice laced with fear.

Minho rose upward so fast he knocked his chair backward. He crossed the short distance to the door and shouted into the hallway, “Help!”

“What is it?” Thomas asked again, dropping Newt’s hand and wheeling around to face a panicking Minho and frozen Frypan.

The answer to his question came when the ICU team wheeled a cart into the room and began bustling around Newt’s body.

“Boys, I need you to get out of here.” The doctor from earlier spoke softly, but rushed, her eyes swiveling between the trio and the boy in the bed.

“Why? What’s happening?” Thomas demanded.

Before the doctor could respond, the heart monitor ceased beeping and instead produced a single, droning note. Newt’s heart had stopped. He was flatlining.

Thomas’s breathing picked up, and he started to move forward, but Minho and Frypan had come to their senses enough to grab his biceps and drag him backwards out of the room, frantically calling for Newt.

The team inside the room placed the paddles of the defibrillator on Newt’s now exposed chest.

“Charging,” a nurse informed the team.

“Clear!” The doctor spoke, and the three boys out in the hall heard the electric shock being delivered to the dying boy in the bed.

After a moment of quick silence, the doctor spoke. “No pulse. Again.”

Thomas let out a wordless cry and renewed his struggles against Minho and Frypan’s grip on him.

“Thomas! Thomas, you need to stop, you need to breathe, you need to calm down,” Minho said, tightening his grip.

Thomas shook his head and kept struggling. “Newt!” he called, voice thick with the same tears that were staining his cheeks. “Newt!”

The three heard another shock from the defibrillator.

“No pulse,” the doctor said. “Again.”

Thomas’s world shrank down to the sound of an electric charge building up, the steady tone from the heart monitor, and the burning sensation of unwanted human contact with Frypan and Minho as he fought desperately to get to his dying boyfriend.


End file.
